Another Kind of Love
by reens
Summary: Oneshots. Written because Elsa deserves all the love in the world and then some. And because love has been right there, if only she knew how to recognize it.
1. Chapter 1

Frozen is my new favourite movie. The best ever. Hands down. Disney has outdone itself this time.

This movie has made me feel all sorts of emotions. There were several parts of the movie which I found terribly saddening. On of them is the part where Elsa lost control of her powers in the courtyard, and this woman holding the baby shielded the child from her. It was an instinctive, protective move on the mother's part, but it must have hurt Elsa terribly.

I wish, somehow, that this hurt could be healed.

This came out in less than an hour. Sorry if it's rushed; and I apologise in advance for any grammatical mistakes, too.

And of course, I do not own Frozen.

* * *

It was evening, and the setting sun was painting broad strokes of red, gold, yellow and pink across the skies. The impromptu ice rink was glowing in the evening light, and rang with the laughter of the people as old and young alike skated in circles in the once-forbidden courtyard of Arendelle Castle.

Children caught snowflakes on their tongues and giggled at the sight of Sven, who provided a source of fascination as most of the people had never seen a reindeer up close before. Olaf, happy, cheerful, was seen building snowmen with a group of adults and children. Anna, finally managing to stay on her feet, still wobbled dangerously as she skated hand in hand with Kristoff.

Elsa couldn't remember a time in which she was this happy. Of course, she noticed the stares, felt the hesitation of the people as they smiled at her or bowed. Some parents still kept their children away from her. But at least she was out here, with her sister and her people, and her powers were bringing the people joy; and for every person who shied away from her, three more came up to greet her with shy bows and smiles. A child even offered a flower, which Elsa accepted graciously and tucked into her hair. The dazed joy on the child's face brought smiles of approval from the people around.

Across the rink she saw Anna wobbling and almost falling, only to be steadied by Kristoff. The adoration on the ice-harvester's face was blatant and warmed Elsa's heart. She wondered if Anna knew how Kristoff felt about her. Then she saw the way Anna looked at him, and realized that maybe Anna already did.

She would have to invite Kristoff into the castle for meals from now on, Elsa thought with a smile. She would get to know this awkward, kind-hearted man, who had risked so much for her sister, and for her as well.

"Your Majesty," said a soft voice.

Elsa turned, pivoting on her slippers, a ready smile already on her face. It faltered a little when she saw the person who addressed her.

It was a woman. Elsa had a vague memory of a sea of horrified faces, terrified screams, and the crowd backing away from her. The woman's face blended into this blurred sea of faces; but Elsa remembered clearly the child in her arms.

This was the woman who had asked if she was alright, the night of her coronation; and this was the baby she had shielded from Elsa as her powers got the better of her. The same child with chubby cheeks, wide, innocent eyes, a huge toothless grin. And fat little arms that reach out to her to be held.

In her musings Elsa had wondered close to a bench, and it was from this bench that the woman was rising, executing an awkward curtsy while holding the child in her arms.

"Please, don't get up," Elsa held up her hands, and quickly dropped them as she remembered what had happened the last time she had stood face-to-face with this woman. For a moment they looked awkwardly at each other, neither knowing what to say, how to act. Then the woman slowly backed away. "Does Your Majesty wish to rest for a while? We will get out of your way…"

"Oh please don't," Elsa said in distress, "Please, sit down and rest. I daresay the child is heavy."

To her surprise, a smile broke over the woman's face.

"She is, aye." she said fondly, while the child gurgled around the fist she had stuffed into her mouth, reaching out with the other hand to grab at the snowflakes drifting slowly through the air.

"Then please, sit down. The bench is big enough for the two of us." Elsa said, and then wanted to kick herself. The woman was most likely looking for an excuse to leave. And with one sentence Elsa had pinned her on the spot. What other choice did the woman have now than to sit back down on the bench, with the one person who possessed the power to harm her child with just one wave of her hand?

She wanted to say something, to tell the woman that it was okay if she wanted to leave, but the woman was already sitting down, the child in her lap, now busy trying to stuff the other fist into her mouth too. Gingerly, Elsa sat down too, on the edge of the bench, as far as she could away from the woman and her precious bundle. The nerves turned her fingers cold, and Elsa turned her palms into each other. She wanted to apologise, for the fear and the confusion and the storm that had encased Arendelle in ice; but the words she could think of felt stiff and unfriendly on her tongue. She had been starved of human companionship for so long, she did not know how to communicate. What were the proper words to use, the right gestures?

If only Anna were here, she thought miserably. Anna would know what to do, what to say; how to defuse this awkwardness. No one but Anna had the warmth, the innocence, the love…

She had reckoned without the child.

The baby had finally noticed that she was there. Elsa found herself confronted with big, curious brown eyes, blinking at her owlishly over her mother's shoulder. Then, the child smiled, cooed, and reached out with chubby arms to Elsa.

"Oh." The simple acceptance was too much. All the innocence, all the trust in the world. Elsa was horrified to find tears gathering in her eyes. Before she could brush them away, the woman had noticed. Concerned brown eyes –so there was there the child got her eyes from, Elsa thought dizzily- stared at her over the cooing baby's head.

"Your Majesty, are you alright?"

The same words, spoken in the same tone. There was no fear in the woman's eyes, none of the aversion Elsa had been so afraid to see. Instead there was simple concern, kind patience.

"I… I…" Elsa shook her head helplessly as more tears gathered. Frost began to creep over the bench, over the ice, spreading in a slow circle. "I… oh no…"

"Your Majesty has had a rough few days." the woman said with gentle sympathy; and to Elsa's acute terror, shifted closer instead of fleeing from the frost. The baby was still smiling at her, babbling now, fat arms held out demanding to be held. It was too easy to picture those little arms freezing into ice.

Terrified, feeling the cold waiting to burst out of her, Elsa made a move to jump up and run, when the child, tired of being ignored, made a sudden lung for Elsa and almost toppled out of her mother's arms.

It was reflex, instinct. Elsa caught the child against her. The next instant there was blind, total panic. There was a fragile, wiggling, foreign being in her arms; so warm and soft and vulnerable; and she could feel the cold creeping up her spine, the power of it building up in her limbs.

"Oh. She's always doing that." the woman said in mild exasperation.

Elsa wanted to scream for Anna, wanted to thrust the baby back at her mother; but her limbs would not move; her mind was a complete blank. And the baby grabbed her braid, tugged, gurgled, and stuffed the end of it into her mouth.

"Oh Elsa," sighed the woman, resigned, watching as her daughter chewed on the queen's hair.

Elsa stared at her in confusion, her moment of panic forgotten. The woman blushed, suddenly embarrassed.

"I hope Your Majesty won't mind but… my husband and I named her after you," she said shyly, "Our beloved queen, who has watched over us all these years. We hope that… that our child would grow up to be just like you,"

Elsa looked down at her namesake, who gazed back, still fearlessly and enthusiastically chewing on her hair. A child, an innocent being named after her. The revelation was stunning and devastating. "You… you wanted her to grow up to be like me? Really?" she whispered. 'But... _why_?"

And she was not a queen now, talking to a subject of her kingdom. She was a little girl now, desperately in need of reassurance that even with all these years of isolation from her people, she had not failed in her duty of taking care of them.

The woman's face melted into a tender smile. "You are everything we could hope for in our queen," she said gently, "You kept us fed, kept us warm, and defended us, even from yourself. Most of all, you love us; Your Majesty. That is the greatest gift of all."

The tears were gathering in her eyes again; the woman's face washed into a blur. But Elsa could still hear the words. "Of course we want our little Elsa to grow up like you, to be as kind, as caring; with the same capacity for love."

She wanted to deny it; the woman was mistaken. She was nothing like the woman had described. But the baby chose this moment to reach up and pat her face gently with a damp fist, and Elsa let the tears fall.

The baby cooed, blinking those huge, trusting brown eyes.

"Hello, Elsa," Elsa said gently, rubbing away the tears and smiling down at the baby. She was soft and chubby, and smelling of milk and soap and baby powder. The child leaned in and put her small head into the crook of Elsa's neck, snuggling against her with a happy gurgle.

"She likes you." the woman smiled.

And all of Elsa's fears were forgotten, all the guilt was gone. The same woman who, with one instinctive action, had torn her heart apart had now mended it with just a few words; that, and the trusting child nestled in her arms. Her heart was so full in her chest that she rather thought it wouldn't be able to contain all she was feeling. There was no cold in her, no tingling in her fingertips. the cold had no place against the warmth of the child, the understanding of the mother.

"Oooooh a baby!" gushed the well-known voice of her sister, and Anna and Kristoff materialized beside them. "Aw how sweet!" Anna tickled the baby's cheek, "What's her name?"

"Elsa." said Elsa happily.

"Elsa? But that's…" Anna's eyes widened in understanding, she beamed at the woman. "That's a wonderful name."

"Yes it is." the woman beamed back.

Anna drew her sister into an one-armed hug. "A person named after you, Elsa. That's like… the _highest _honour!"

And a great responsibility. Elsa got up, cradling the child carefully. Anna laid her head on her shoulder with a happy sigh.

"I hope I can live up to your expectations of me.;" Elsa said seriously to the woman.

The woman smiled gently. "Oh Your Majesty. You already have."

_You already have._

Warmth welled so hard, so fast; healing the hurt, banishing the fears. And Elsa recognized this simple faith for what it really was – just another kind of love.

"So... does little Elsa have a sister named Anna?" Anna asked hopefully.

"Anna!"

"What? It's a valid question!" Anna gave an un-princess-like shrug, "You're all aloof and regal and stand-offish and you get someone named after you! I'm all about warmth and bringing happiness to people, of _course _someone should be named after _me_!"

Undone, helpless with laughter, Elsa drew her sister in for a hug and held both her and little Elsa close.

Yes. Just another kind of love.


	2. Chapter 2

This is based on an idea from a friend, who commented on how heart-breaking it was to see Anna hugging her parents before they left, while Elsa kept away and just curtseyed. I'm sure Elsa, starved of love, would have wanted a hug too.

* * *

Anna paused by her sister's door on her way down the corridor. It was a reflex now, the hesitation, the impulse to knock; then she turned away, moving on. This too, was a reflex. She had long ago stopped hoping that Elsa would open the door; and with no expectations, there were no disappointments.

Well, mostly no disappointments. She still daydreamed about a day when Elsa would open the door and call out to her as she passed by.

She was still baffled by her sister's withdrawal, but when years of begging, throwing tantrums, cajoling, and pestering failed to pull a reasonable explanation from Elsa and her parents, her insistence to find out _why _– and maybe, the small chance that she might be able to fix this if she _knew_ why _– _faded into non-existence with the monotony of routine and time.

She sometimes saw her sister during meals; these were the only times Elsa didn't make an excuse and leave whenever the two sisters ended up in the same room. If it weren't for these times, Anna was afraid that one day she would pass by Elsa in the corridors and fail to recognize her.

Just two days ago she had almost barged Elsa down turning a corner. Her sister had leapt back with a startled gasp. Anna had been amazed how much like their mother Elsa now looked; the same eyes, same face, same gestures and poise. The only thing different was Elsa's white-blonde hair. Elsa even had their mother's eyebrows. Curiously, her eyebrows were dark; Anna rather thought one's eyebrows would be the same colour as one's hair; this just showed how much she knew.

Then Elsa had smiled gently, "Hello, Anna," and went on her way, leaving Anna to stare after her, searching her mind for some sort of reply. By the time Anna thought about asking how Elsa's day had been, her older sister had already disappeared down the corridor.

Well, if her sister bothered to talk to her once in a while, they wouldn't have to be in this situation; strangers sharing the same home. Anna thought sourly. And if they saw each other more often, she would not have been so surprised at how much Elsa had changed. When did Elsa start wearing her hair like their mother, instead of the single braid Anna remembered from their childhood?

Anna's face brightened as she neared her parents' room. At least she still had the love of her parents. It didn't make up for the lack of Elsa's, but it went a long way to patch up a girl's wounded heart. Her parents were leaving today, visiting several ports to re-establish trading relations with nearby kingdoms. Rushing into the room like she always did, she pulled her parents into a hug. The two people who could be counted on to never reject her love.

"See you in two weeks," she told them. They had promised to bring her presents from the places they would be visiting. Although Anna didn't like the fact that her parents were leaving for diplomatic ventures, they had promised to bring back new things for her, books and drawings and stories; her only contact with the world outside the castle.

Her father's chest rumbled with laughter. "Behave while we're gone. Try not to set the kitchens on fire again."

"One time. Just _one _time. And no one lets you forget it," Anna huffed playfully.

"Or climb the castle walls." Her father continued with a grin.

"Or try to swing off the chimneys with a rope." her mother smiled.

"Alright, alright. I'll be good and not put anyone's life in jeopardy. Including my own." Anna laughed.

Her mother's face softened into the sad, longing look Anna had come to associate with any mention of Elsa's name. "Elsa is in charge while we're gone. Try not to give your sister a hard time."

"When have I ever?" Anna said, but the cheerful mood was dampened. Her parents were leaving, and for two weeks she would have no one to talk to except for the servants and the paintings in the portrait room. The loneliness was already making itself known.

She skipped her way down the stairs leading to the grand hall ahead of her parents, to walk with them to the gates – she was not allowed outside of them. To her surprise Elsa was there –_outside of her room - _at the bottom of the stairs, looking regal in typical Elsa-blue. Self-consciously, Anna moved to the side, letting her sister say her goodbyes to their parents.

Elsa curtseyed. So aloof. Remote. Distant. But she managed to look so elegant while doing it that Anna was jealous. It just didn't seem fair that Anna had inherited all the clumsiness. Elsa was all poise and grace and airs. Maybe it was a good thing that the future queen of Arendelle would not fall on her face every time she curtseyed, since she'd be required to curtsey a lot. Anna thought in resignation.

"Do you have to go?" Elsa asked their parents softly.

There was something in her voice that checked Anna's resentment. There was a slight tremble in the normally steady voice, as though Elsa was worried. From her position she could just see her sister's face. There was something in Elsa's eyes. Not just worry. A kind of fear, a kind of longing, and a deep sorrow that Anna did not understand.

Her sister always looked sad now, she realized suddenly with a small pang. The questions welled up inside Anna, fighting to burst out, but she swallowed them. She knew from past experiences that any mention of Elsa's estrangement from the rest of the family would sour the atmosphere instantly.

Maybe Elsa was just worried about being acting queen during their parents' absence. This would be the first time _both _their parents left together on a trip; their mother had always remained behind to take care of the kingdom before.

But that did not explain the sadness in her sister's eyes. And as much as Anna wanted to resent her sister, the sadness tugged at her soft heart. The sadness was also mirrored in their mother's eyes, and echoed in their father's voice as he gently tried to reassure Elsa.

"You'll be fine, Elsa."

The guards were beginning to move their luggage out of the double doors. Their parents were turning to leave. Elsa stared after them, and the expression on her face somehow tore at Anna's heart. A deep, hopeless longing, helpless sorrow. Her arms twitched as Elsa held them slightly out in an involuntary gesture; but their parents had their backs turned and did not see. They were walking away, and those thin arms fell to Elsa's side, the fingers curling into fists.

She wanted a hug, the revelation struck Anna. Her sister wanted a hug. She could not remember the last time her sister had come into physical contact with anyone. Anna had thought it was something her sister did not want. But the yearning was so, so, _so _blatant on Elsa's face.

_Why didn't she just hug them then? _

There were times in Anna's life when she had wanted to hate Elsa. To hate, so that there would be no longing for her sister's company; to hate, so that the rejection would hurt less. But right this moment Anna realized she could never hate her sister; because she loved her, so much. She always had.

She moved, sliding up behind her sister, and with all her might, shoved Elsa forward.

Elsa's startled gasp was the only warning. Her parents turned, just in time for their father to save Elsa from landing on her face by catching her in his arms. Elsa gave another gasp, pushing against their father's arms, as though struggling to move away, and for a moment Anna thought she had made a mistake.

Then their father drew her against him, wrapping her up in his long arms; and Anna watched in amazement as the tears welled up in her sister's eyes. The struggling stopped; then Elsa closed those sad eyes and threw her arms around their father's neck.

"I'll… I'll miss you," she said, her voice wobbling with emotion, and Anna felt answering tears welling up in her own eyes, moved by the emotional scene even though she did not know what the fuss was all about. Their parents would only be gone for two weeks, after all.

"Oh Elsa," the sigh seemed to come from deep inside the King as he held his oldest daughter close, pressing his cheek against the crown of Elsa's head. Elsa snuggled closer, her face burrowing into his neck like a child seeking reassurance.

"Elsa," their mother whispered, her voice choked, holding out her arms, waiting for her turn.

Their father held Elsa close for a moment, as though reluctant to let her go, then allowed their mother to step in his place. Elsa was as tall as their mother now, Anna saw, as Elsa laid her head on their mother's shoulders, eyes squeezed shut. There were tear tracks on her cheeks, and new tears leaked out as their mother softly, gently stroked her hair and pressed her lips to the top of Elsa's head.

Their mother too, Anna saw, was crying. And for the life of her Anna could not figure out _why._ They would be back in two weeks. There was no call for tears. Elsa was clinging like she would never let go. If she had wanted hugs so much, why didn't she just ask for one?

Here lay the secret of her family. And Anna was closed off, a witness on the sidelines, for she did not understand and no one seemed inclined to tell her _why _Elsa had closed herself off from the rest of the family, _why _sadness always hung like a cloud over them, _what _was behind the locked door. There was an ache in her heart as she watched their father wrapped both their mother and Elsa in his embrace.

Then he looked at Anna, and smiled. His eyes looked alarmingly bright – like the wet sort of bright. Anna really hoped _he _wasn't going to start crying too; and then he held out a hand to her. "Anna, come here."

She didn't need telling twice, and was wrapped up in warmth as arms closed around her too.

For the first time in forever, the family was together again, tangled together in a many-armed hug. Anna could smell their father's tobacco, and the lavender scent of their mother's perfume. Her sister smelled like spring and flowers, and her skin felt cool to the touch as Elsa pressed her cheek gently against hers. Then, wonder of all wonders, she felt Elsa's arm wrapped around her, giving her a small squeeze. All the love Anna had kept inside of her for so long simply burst out. Along with the giddy elation at the knowledge that _Elsa did not hate her_. She still did not understand the reason for the secrets – for there _were _secrets – the closed doors and the silence and the sadness. But right at this moment, the simple knowledge that Elsa did not hate her was enough.

"I love you," Elsa whispered, to no one and everyone.

"We love you too." There was an odd little catch in their father's voice.

Later - much later, the two sisters stood at the balcony watching as their parents' ship sailed out of the harbor. For once there was companionable silence between the two, no strained tension, no Elsa hurriedly making an excuse to leave her sister alone.

Elsa was back to her composed, stately self. As the ship sailed out of sight into the horizon, she turned to Anna with her gentle smile. She hesitated, then laid a gloved hand softly on Anna's arm. "Thank you, Anna." The next moment the contact was gone and so was Elsa, leaving Anna on the balcony struggling with the emotions that welled with this sudden show of affection from her sister.

Years later, Anna would finally understand the breathless gratitude that was in her sister's voice.

A week later, they found out that it was the last hug the whole family would ever share.


	3. Chapter 3

Kai has been there from the start, before that white streak came into Anna's hair, before Elsa's powers were hidden.

This has been particularly hard to write, for I have nothing - nothing!- to base Kai's character on. Anyway, this is written for that _one_ friend (You know who you are!) who wanted a one-shot on surrogate-father-Kai.

* * *

Arendelle was shrouded in grief. And the colour of it was black.

The dead were laid to rest, now the living had to be tended to; life, like the rest of the world, went on. The people of Arendelle needed to be reassured. The Council would have to meet in urgent to discuss the running of the kingdom without the King and Queen. Letters had to be sent to the allies of the kingdom to inform them the news.

But right now, Kai had simpler things - more important things - in mind.

He walked the castle corridors alone. The place was haunted, he thought tiredly. He could see the King and Queen in every room, around every corner; could almost feel them in the air. Then the illusion would shatter, and fresh grief welled as the reality came crashing back – the King and Queen were gone.

Not really gone, Kai reminded himself, not _all _gone. They still lived, pieces of them, glimpses of them, in the princesses they left behind. The princesses were Kai's priority now. All Arendelle grieved, but none as much as the princesses. Still so young; and they had already suffered a lifetime of trials. Now with the grief so fresh, so strong, the future seemed bleak. How could the princesses – or him, for that matter – overcome this terrible anguish?

Even the skies seemed to echo the kingdom in its sorrow. For days the sun had been hidden behind dark clouds; the little light that penetrated was warped by chilling mists that hung ceaselessly over the land. Kai wondered vaguely if the weather was a coincidence; he wondered if it were an echo of Princess Elsa's emotions.

Yes, he knew. Of course he knew. There had been a reason for the King and Queen to have kept him on as manservant so many years ago; one of them was because he had known about Princess Elsa's… well, abilities, from the start. He, and Gerda also, who had acted as the princesses' nanny when they were younger. After all, _someone _was needed to deal with the outcome of bursts of Princess Elsa's powers. Sodden tapestries, flooded ballrooms from happier times when the little princesses would sneak down during the nights to play. Then, more recently, cracked window panes frosted over with un-melting ice, and splintered wooden walls in Princess Elsa's bedroom. All dealt with personally by Kai, hiring trustworthy crew to fix the damage, and making up stories to cover up for the princess.

He had watched the princesses grow. Held them in his arms as babies and toddlers. He had kissed better Elsa's first ever scraped knee, showed Anna her first bird nest. Watched over them as they played as carefree, happy children. Snuck them snacks from the kitchens and help them cover up the messes from the resulting sugar high.

Then the sisters had grown apart, Anna getting into more mischief, Elsa retreating further into herself. Anna tagging along behind him on his duties, asking the most ridiculous questions; Elsa skittish and painfully polite whenever they met in the corridors. Anna driving her tutors crazy; Elsa shying away from everyone, her sister, her parents, Gerda, and Kai. And he had watched, helpless, as one sister closed the other outside the door, and could do nothing about the loneliness they both shared.

They lost a sister, but they had still had their parents. And now they did not even have that anymore. Who would give Anna hugs now? Who would Elsa confide in whenever she needed help with her powers?

And Elsa, so young, with the responsibilities of an entire kingdom on her shoulders. Of course, the Council would still help oversee the running of the kingdom, but Elsa was Queen now. Queen Elsa, in name and in practice. Kai would be damned before he saw Elsa being taken advantage of.

_Take care of our daughters while we're gone. _The King had told him before leaving. And he would. It was a promise he made to the King; a promise he made to himself, because royalty or not, Elsa and Anna were his – had been his ever since the first time he had held them as babes in his arms.

_Take care of our daughters…_

First, there was the grief.

He was there, in the corridor leading to the princesses' rooms, and right there, where he knew she would be, was Anna, curled into a tight ball at the foot of Elsa's door, head buried in her knees. She was still, unmoving - Kai had never seen her so still. It had been hours since the funeral, he was ready to bet Anna had come here straight after it –she still had her black cloak on - and had been here ever since.

Needing comfort from the only family she had left. Even when she knew –she must have known – that Elsa would not offer it to her.

Her stillness frightened him. He reached down to place a shaky hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Princess Anna?"

She moved then, turning her face from her knees to look up at him. Her face was pale, blue eyes glassy and swollen and bloodshot from her weeping. Eyes she shared with her sister. Anna's eyes had always been warm, happy - while Elsa's were sad, cautious, and broke his heart every time he saw them.

This was the first time he saw Elsa's eyes in Anna.

Anna, the sunbeam of the kingdom.

He had never seen her look so lost, so vulnerable, so helpless. She seemed to have wept all she could for the time being, and had reached the state of utter exhaustion. Her movements were sluggish, her eyes dull.

He knelt down beside her. Because tears were threatening behind his own eyes, his voice grew stiff. "Princess Anna. It's… you're cold," he said, lamely, not knowing what to say. And it was cold out here in the corridor – he wondered if Elsa's powers were creeping out from her room. "Let's get you someplace warm. I shall ask the maid to light the fire in your room…"

"No." Anna whispered, face back against her knees, "I'm not leaving. Elsa's inside. I don't want her to be alone. I'm not leaving her."

Not needing comfort. He realized. Needing, yes; but more importantly, _offering _comfort, not knowing if it was welcomed, not knowing if Elsa even acknowledged it. Anna had come for comfort; but she would stay, because there was the slightest chance that Elsa might need her instead.

Love. Unbending. Unchanging throughout the years. This was Anna, the selflessness, the compassion, the love.

Humbled, undone, he hovered helplessly, then gave up propriety and all thoughts of rank and status. With some crackling of bones – he realized vaguely that he was not as young as he thought – he sat down beside Anna, just like he used to do years ago, when he would join little Anna by the window to look at stars. With a sigh, he leaned his head against the sturdy wood of the door and closed his eyes.

"I miss them too." He murmured. In reply, she slipped her hand into his and laid her head against his shoulder.

"What are we going to do?" Anna whispered, her voice hoarse and small. "I don't know what to do now. What are we going to do, Kai?"

It was like she was six years old again, asking questions, fully expecting him to have all the answers.

Where had the years gone to? Since when did the little girl grow as tall as he was? Since when did she have to bear such burdens on her young shoulders?

He squeezed her hand. "You are not alone. I will be right here." It was a promise to her, and to himself. "And we have your sister. We'll get through this together."

Anna hiccupped. "I wish…" she hesitated, her voice trembling with longing, "I wish I can give Elsa a hug. Just for a moment. A moment would be enough. Can you hear?" she whispered, "she's crying so hard."

Yes. He could hear. The soft cries of the Queen from the other side of the door. Kai could picture Elsa curling into herself, like Anna, on the other side of the door. With no one to comfort her. No one but the ice to keep her company. And his heart tore itself into two, for the sister shut outside the door; and for the sister who had to choose not to open it.

"She didn't go to the funeral," Anna continued to whisper, her eyes tightly shut.

"I know." He blinked; his eyes were burning. There was no condemnation in Anna's voice, just confusion and sad acceptance. But Kai knew that not being able to attend the funeral would haunt Elsa for the rest of her life. Another life-long regret in the girl's young life. Sometimes, Kai hoped that the late King and Queen had not taught Elsa to conceal her powers. How could such a young girl cope with so much grief alone? How could Anna?

Anna did not speak again, and neither did Kai. There was nothing to say. The girl kept her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed. Kai knew she cried; for tears leaked and dripped onto his shoulder. He held her hand, and wished for a miracle – wished that Elsa would open her door, wished that the sisters would be united again to help each other over this shared pain.

A long while later, when the day had changed into night and after Gerda had come around three times to try to get Anna to eat something, the fatigue finally won and the younger princess fell into an exhausted sleep. Gently, tenderly, Kai cradled her against him and carried her to her room. He wanted to stay with her, to sit by her bed and keep vigil through her sleep because _by God she was his baby too_; but he knew he was needed somewhere else. Calling Gerda in to keep Anna company should she wake, he went back to the blue and white door.

This was harder. Not that Anna grieved any less than her sister; but everything was harder when it came to Elsa.

He knocked, clearing his throat. What should he call her now? Queen? Princess? Queen was appropriate now. Elsa was queen. But had she accepted that yet?

"Princess Elsa," he settled for the old, the familiar.

Of course, there was no reply. But as he leaned closer he could hear the soft hiccups that Elsa couldn't quite suppress.

"It's just me," he sighed, putting a hand against the smooth, hard wood. "I just… I'm… if it pleases you, my lady, I just want you to know that I will be right here. I'll be right here with you. Your Highness is not alone,"

There was a sniffle, a little sound of movement. "Anna?" Elsa's voice was hoarse from her bout of crying.

"Princess Anna is asleep," he told her. "I took her to her room."

"Please don't let her be alone now. She's not… our parents… She needs someone to stay with her. Please don't let her be alone. I don't want her to be alone." There was desperation in Elsa's voice.

Love again. The same, unwavering love Anna had for her sister, so blatantly returned. Kai wished they both knew how much the other loved. It would heal Anna's hurt; soothe Elsa's pain.

"Gerda is there with her, and will stay with her until she wakes up." he informed her.

There was silence again from inside the room. Silence except for the soft weeping. The handle was ice cold. Kai closed his eyes. "Princess Elsa. I really think you should not be alone right now. I think… if it pleases you… I just…" This was so, so hard. "Please, would you open the door?"

"You know I can't, Kai." The reply was soft.

"Your Highness." He laid his forehead against the door and damned his own helplessness.

"I didn't go to the funeral," said Elsa's hollow voice, her breath hitching, "I didn't dare to. My room's frozen. I… I have not been able to thaw it. I couldn't… I didn't go to the funeral. I didn't go." The last was an agonized whisper. She was eighteen and the Queen Regent, and she was a child, lost; a daughter, torn by grief. And she had missed her last chance of saying goodbye. She would remember that, she would remember that for a long time.

To hell with propriety. Kai fumbled in his coat pocket, drawing out the huge bunch of keys he kept to the doors of all the rooms in the castle. Finding one with snowflakes on the handle, he inserted it into the keyhole and turned the key.

Here, the room was shrouded in white. Grief was white here. Grief was the frost covering the floors and walls, the cracks in the windows, the icicles hanging from the ceiling. Grief was the cold, the utter stillness of the snowflakes hanging motionlessly in the air.

Grief was Elsa, curled against the door much like Anna had, shoulders shaking and shaking with each harsh sob.

He had never seen her weep, not like this. Not with her face in her knees, shoulders heaving; not such terrible, violent, helpless tears.

"Elsa." He forgot to add _Princess, _or _Queen_. Didn't even think about it, not when his heart was bleeding.

She sprang up, half rising from the floor, legs tangling in her dress; she sucked in a breath as she fought for control, sucked in another breath; then simply sank back to curl into herself, too tired, too shattered, to care. Another layer of frost spread over the layer already covering the floor.

Had she always been this thin? Did she always have those bluish shadows under her eyes?

"Elsa." His hands fumbled. What should he do? Who should he _be_? Be the servant, toe the line, mind his rank? While his heart and mind screamed for him to offer the comfort, pick her up and soothe away her hurts like the time she was three and came crying to him because of a thorn in her finger.

The room was freezing. He stepped away to the bed, pulling up the blanket and dusting away the frost clinging to it. In his mind, Elsa was a baby, just born, with wisps of white-blonde hair and large blue eyes that stared and stared as he held her in his arms. She was eight, tears in those eyes as she watched the servants move her things out of the room she shared with Anna. She was eleven, hovering outside of Anna's room –it had been a bad year for influenza, which Anna caught – fear bright in those eyes. And here she was, eighteen, orphaned; and those eyes still broke his heart.

His joints cracked in the cold as he sat down beside her wordlessly, drawing her against him. She was stiff against him, a hand bracing against the floor, pulling back, resisting the hug. Kai pretended not to notice. Elsa had loved hugs as a child; he refused to believe that had changed. He draped the blanket around her shoulders. "Here. Keep warm, Elsa." Under the circumstances, titles seemed irrelevant.

Her response was a small, bitter laugh. "The cold doesn't bother me."

He bundled her up with the blanket anyway. "Do you not like warmth?"

She turned those sad, sad eyes to him, then she closed them and, after a while, relaxed and put her head on his shoulder; and her sigh of defeat was his greatest victory so far. She had accepted his comfort. No matter how brief, she had accepted it.

"Of course I do." She whispered.

"I thought so." he smiled. He patted her gloved hand, but she pulled it away, tucking it with the other into her lap. She reminded him so much of her mother, the quiet grace, the soft voice. And of her father, the dignity and solemnity.

She was quiet, then whispered, "At least I got to tell them I loved them, one last time."

"They knew," his voice choked, "they always knew. And they loved you, and were proud of you; they were. You must believe that."

"I didn't go to the funeral. I left Anna there all alone. She must hate me now." Her breath came out in a shudder. "I love Anna. So much."

"She doesn't hate you. She loves you. And she knows you love her." Did Anna know? He wasn't sure, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

"No, I'm not so sure she knows. I'm not so sure that she would think my hiding from her is an act of love. I'm not sure about anything anymore." Her eyes opened, gazing into the white that was her grief. "I wish… I wish I could hug her, just for a while. I wish… things were different. I wish she knows that I miss her, so much, every day. And that I really, really want to open the door, and build snowmen with her, every day."

There were no words he could say to her, none that would make her feel better. He put an arm around her and rocked her gently; his Queen, his charge, his little girl, the closest thing to a daughter - her, and Anna too, of course - he would ever have. He closed his eyes, and at last, let the tears fall.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed midnight when Elsa's breathing finally deepened. The frost and ice receded slowly, the temperature gradually rising. Elsa was at peace for the moment. He was humbled that he could bring that to her, even if it was just for a little while.

He tried to move, but his joints protested their stiffness; and Elsa moaned in her sleep, eyebrows furrowing. She had always been a light sleeper, any further movement and she would wake. Kai sat back down, gently adjusting her so she lay more comfortably against him, and made sure the blanket was wrapped securely around her.

And so he sat there, with his joints hurting, the arm supporting Elsa's weight going numb; his back going numb, a crick growing in his neck. But he sat unmoving, and dozed on and off, as the shadows shifted through the night and dawn broke quietly over the land.

And he was not aware – never really thought about it this way - that this, too, was love.


	4. Chapter 4

Letter from Princess Anna of Arendelle, to Queen Elsa of Arendelle, received the morning of Her Majesty's coronation.

Inspired by my sister. Who is to me - on most days- as Anna is to Elsa.

* * *

_I know you were on my side, even when I was wrong - _The Best Day, Taylor Swift.

* * *

Elsa,

Tomorrow you will be Queen.

Today, really, as it is way past midnight now. I know I know, I should be asleep.

I'm too restless to, really. This coronation thing is too exciting, too surreal, too everything. You'll be queen, and I'm struggling to tell you things that I can't put into words. I just have this feeling that I _have _to tell you, before you stand before the priest tomorrow – today, because then another phase of your life –of our lives- will start and I'll lose the chance of telling you in _this _phase of our lives if I don't speak up now.

Bear with me; you know I tend to ramble on.

Today you will be queen. You _have_ been the queen, in name and in practice, but today you will pick up the scepter and the globe thing and be queen in legality. You will put on a cape and a crown, and the Council will kneel and give their pledges of loyalty and service to you.

There will be a party, the gates will be opened, and the people will cheer as they pour into the courtyard. All of this scares you, I could see it during the meals we have had together over these few months. You've grown progressively tenser, quieter, and that frown has never left your face.

And tonight – last night I mean, at dinner, I watched you worry over your food, cutting your potatoes into little cubes, moving your spoon around in your soup, then leaving without eating anything; and I did not know what to say. I wanted to tell you that I understand what you're feeling; but the truth is I don't understand at all. I don't understand the pressure you are under, the responsibilities; I don't understand what it is like to be the youngest queen in all of Arendelle history, a female ruler, a child among the Council members, a girl on whose shoulders lies the weight of an entire kingdom.

What are you really worrying about? The responsibilities? The people looking up to you? The fact that a whole kingdom – and others, too – is depending on you? They have been doing all that, for the better part of the last three years. I guess the coronation just makes that more real somehow. The coronation makes it final. It's like, there's no going back after this. Like, this is it, you're on the front lines on a battlefield, and no one will catch you if you fall.

I wish there is something I can say to make you feel better. Can you believe it? This is my fifth attempt tonight, to start a letter to you. The previous ones all fell short of what I really want to say. I don't know how to put my feelings into words.

I'll see if this letter survives the others. I'll finish writing one before dawn if it's the last thing I do.

You don't need my trying to make you feel better, really; you're so good at getting through things on your own. I just wish that I could, you know, help; make you feel better; tell you you're not alone.

I'm right here for you, even if you don't really need me.

Mother and Father are gone three years now. I still miss them terribly whenever I think of them. Do you remember how Mother would read to us when we were younger and still shared the same room? She had the softest, gentlest voice. Sometimes she would sing, silly songs she made up herself. And Papa, who held us in his lap while he bent over paperwork in his study; who pretended to chase away the monsters we thought were hiding in our closets. The way he would laugh during dinner, when it was just us, our family, and no one else. Remember the tutors they hired for us? Papa wanting to educate us on history and politics and battle strategies; Mother wanting us to know the piano, the dances, the floral arrangements, among other things. I was terrible on the piano, you gave up the dance lessons; and we both tried to get away from the flower arrangement thing. I tried to get out of the politics and history stuff too, because I got bored easily and I thought, well, I have you, don't I? You'd be queen and I wouldn't need to know this stuff.

And so, I was basically useless to you when Mother and Father died. I knew next to nothing, and I had to watch you shoulder all the responsibilities. I came to most of the Council meetings, but I understood so little. I wanted to help with some of the paperwork, but I was afraid I would start wars instead. So I sat and watched you as you battled grief and taxes and negotiations, and old, old Council members who looked down their noses at you. I also watched as you overcame all those, coming out the victor.

We have established new trade policies with Corona and the Northern Isles, we now have new education opportunities for the people, we have reduced taxes… I'm sorry, I'm still trying to fully understand all these things. I know enough that these are just a few of your achievements. The people love you, the other kingdoms respect you. The Council now views you in a whole new light - I think they will kiss the ground you walk on now if you want them to. And I am so, so, _so _proud of you, Elsa.

I know that Mother and Father are proud of you, too, where they are now. You are everything they had always wanted you to be, and more. I don't know what they think of me now, probably still worry that I would set the kitchens on fire _again_. Honestly, just _one_ time, and everyone remembers it forever and take great pleasure in reminding me, too, all the time. Kai still brings it up to tease me now and then. And Gerda has still not recovered from the chandelier incident, or the garden incident, or the stable incident.

It's a long story. Long stories. Really. you won't want to know.

I'm trying not to do things like that –the kitchen, the climbing castle walls - anymore; I've _been _trying, honest! But I'll try _harder_ now, you know, to be less impulsive, less rash, more thoughtful and the like. I won't want to worry you, because I think you have enough on your plate, with a kingdom to run and all, without worrying about your kid sister.

Anyway, back to what I was trying to say; I know Mother and Father are proud of you, so proud; as am I. Of what you have accomplished, of all that you will achieve, of _you_. Just you, who you were, who you have become.

I resolve to be a help and not a hindrance to you, from now on. Give me some time, Elsa. I'm learning the history and politics and taxes and stuff. Not as fast as you learned, but I'm making progress. I would like to think that you'd be able to rely on me, as I have relied on you all these years.

You are my rock, Elsa. The one thing that kept me sane when Mother and Father died. My anchor during hard times. When all look bleak and hopeless, I think of you and of how you overcame so much, and that is such an encouragement, a reassurance; an inspiration, that _I_ can overcome, too.

You are the queen, but you are my sister; you will always be my sister first. And I can't say this of anyone else, but I'll be with you no matter what, I'll be with you on the front lines of this battlefield. I don't know much, but I'll be right there. So don't worry about tomorrow – today, don't worry about the responsibilities and the priest and the dignitaries and the people. You will not be alone.

And I'll always be _on_ your side, Elsa; even when you are in the wrong – you'll make mistakes, my dear sister, it's unavoidable. When you do, look to your right; I'll be there. I love you, no matter how exasperated I can be because of you.

Today is your coronation. It'll be about pledges from the Council and the people, pledges _to _the Council and the people. About a crown on your head. About the responsibilities, the problems, the anxieties. Don't be afraid, Elsa. You'll handle everything like you always do. And you'll have the most loyal supporter on your side. So take a deep breath, get out there, stand on the platform, and smile. I haven't seen your dress for the coronation, but I know you'll look beautiful. You always are.

Most importantly, be yourself. You will do just fine.

I love you very much.

Anna

* * *

_Make one wrong move and everyone will know._

Elsa looked at the frost, and quickly put her gloves back on. Above her, the painting of her father during his coronation seemed to stare down at her. The cold tingled, in her spine, underneath her skin, at her fingertips. Outside, she could hear the crowd, the voices growing ever so much louder as the people moved across the bridge to the castle gates.

The fear was a beast inside of her, tearing her up from the inside.

_It's only for today._

_It's agony to wait._

She heard her sister's voice somewhere downstairs, shrill with excitement, ecstatic with anticipation. And remembered the letter she had found in the early hours of the day, pushed underneath her door.

_I will be on your side, even when you are wrong._

_I will be on your side..._

Elsa took a deep breath; let the remembered words sink in.

The cold receded. The tingling stopped.

_I will be on your side._

She took another deep breath, and pulled open the library doors.

_I love you very much._

"Tell the guards to open up - the gate!"


	5. Chapter 5

Dedicated to a friend, who wanted a one-sister-had-a-nightmare-and-seeks-comfort-from-the-other one-shot (Which I think is a little redundant since there are already a lot of such fics written). Anyway, here's my version.

* * *

She was surrounded by ice. Ice of her own doing, floors and pillars and intricate patterns on the walls; ice that reflect the light of the setting sun and the emerging stars. And the ice was stained red.

The red was a pool beneath the body of the man suspended in midair by her ice; a slow, wet dripping from his throat down his front and onto her ice floor. Red was trickling down the icicle that had pierced his throat. The crossbow was still hanging from his hand; his eyes were open, already glassy, staring at her, as though condemning her even in death.

He couldn't have been any more than thirty years old, she noted.

The balcony was empty, the ice handrails broken and smashed into nothing. The other man was gone too. Her ice had made sure of that. She wondered what the fall from such a height would do to him. The body would be broken, bones smashed, skull cracked. Would his broken body bleed too? Bleed like the one killed by the ice in his throat?

The red was spreading. It surprised her. She had not thought a mere body would contain all that blood. She wondered how she could ever remove the stain from her ice.

The doors behind her burst open as the shouting of men reached her ears. It was Hans, she knew. Even before she turned on her heels to meet them head on, she had known it would be Hans in the lead.

She spun; and came face-to-face with her sister instead.

They stared at each other. She watched as her sister's eyes slid to the man suspended by her ice, to the ice in his throat. Watched as shock, horror, repulsion chased each other across her face. A chasm seemed to open up between them, growing wider and wider as her sister stared and stared at the body. There was silence, horrible silence, as, from behind her sister, the guards from Arendelle stared in horror at the queen they had once served – at the gruesome act she had committed.

Then she saw her sister turning her eyes on her, the repulsion had settled on her face, and with it was the hatred. They were enemies now.

Her sister backed a step, and the thump of her foot on the ice floor was a final, invisible line between them.

"You killed him." Her sister whispered, and in her voice was the horror, the fear, the disgust. "You killed him!" This was a shout.

"The Duke was right! You're a monster! Stay away from me! You're a murderer! A monster! _Monster_!"

* * *

Elsa woke, the screams stuck in her throat, the horror of the dream swimming in her mind. Her room was iced over, frosted over, and for one terrible moment she thought she saw red staining the white that was her terror. She struggled against the covers, and slid with them to the foot of the bed. Her legs were weak, her arms trembling. It was cold, so cold. Which was ridiculous – the cold never bothered her.

The screams were still echoing in her mind. _Monster! Monster! You're a monster! _And she did not know if it was her sister's voice from the dream, the Duke of Weselton's from her memory; or her own.

_You're a monster._

She was shivering and whimpering and crying, huddling at the foot of her bed, and the cold was spreading. Icicles grew from the ceiling. Control was a thing of the past. Icicles. Those from her dream. The windows cracked and shattered as ice covered them, broke through them. The sound was an explosion in the night.

_Conceal don't feel don't let it show._

It didn't work. It never did.

_Monster._

_Anna. Anna would help. _But she remembered the repulsion on her sister's face, the disgust in her voice, and plaster fell in flakes as the walls behind them cracked under the strain of growing ice. _Get it together, you hadn't killed them. You never killed anyone. _But she remembered that she nearly had. One more second, and she would have killed. She hadn't killed those men, had she? She remembered placing them, together with the Duke of Weselton, under guard and ordered all three to be escorted out of Arendelle. But the dream was so real, so real; and in the dark, in the silence, in her terror, the dream blended seamlessly with reality. She looked down at her hands, the slender fingers, the neatly kept nails; and saw talons, claws, stained with blood.

_Monster._

Whimpering, she dashed to the closet, dragging the door open, the wood scraping in protest against ice – _ice ice ice! – _and fumbled for her gloves. A layer was not enough, she struggled to pull on a second; when the third pair would not fit over the two pairs of gloves she already had on, she gave up and sank to the floor, and curled herself into a tight, terrified ball.

* * *

_There was blood on the ice, blood on the sword Hans held in his hands. Her sister's blood. She was too late, too late. Too late._

_Oh not again_.

Anna woke to find her face against the carpeted floor of her bedroom. She could taste salt on her face, knowing it was from her tears. She turned to lie on her back, breathing deeply to calm her galloping heart, and rubbed away the tears with a trembling hand. Elsa was fine. It was a dream, a recurrent one, a frightening one, even more so because she knew that it could have been true – if she had been just one second late, it would have been true.

Elsa was fine. She was asleep in her own room, probably looking as perfect as ever with not one hair out of place from her braid. Elsa was _fine_.

Anna got up, threw her pillow back onto the bed, and headed single-mindedly toward the door. She knew just what to do to calm her fears. The first time she had had the she-was-too-late-and-Hans-killed-Elsa dream, she had raced crying to her sister's room. It was never locked after The Thaw, and she had thrown the door open, climbed into her sister's bed and crawled all over her sister, made a huge fuss and, of course, given Elsa the fright of her life in the process.

And Elsa – instead of throwing her out for being a pest - had drawn the covers around the both of them and cuddled with her, stroking her hair and humming until Anna calmed and fell asleep. After that night, she headed for Elsa's room whenever the nightmares came.

Elsa never sought her out, but Anna would like to think that her sister would if she ever needed comfort. She would like to think that Elsa needed her just as much, should the occasion arise.

It was almost a nuisance, having to travel the distance between their rooms, she thought as she made her way down the long corridor to her sister's room; she really should suggest they move back into the same room, or at least move closer to each other. On second thought, maybe sharing the same bedroom with Elsa wasn't _that _good an idea when Kristoff would throw stones at her window during the nights he was back from delivering ice. While Elsa approved of Kristoff, Anna was quite sure the approval did not extend to midnight walks and stolen kisses in the moonlight – insert dreamy sigh right _here – _at least not yet.

Thinking of Kristoff – who was off on another harvest, accompanied by his trusty Sven and the ever curious Olaf- settled her a little, and she was smiling when she rounded the corner to her sister's room, smiling when she put her hand on the handle of Elsa's door.

It was frosted over. The smile slid off her face.

"Elsa." She turned the handle – it wasn't locked, thank God it wasn't locked – and had to put her shoulder to the wood to push it open as the door screeched against ice. There was frost on the walls, ice on the floor, the windows were shattered, and the curtains were flapping in the cold night wind. Glass was everywhere, on the windowsill, the chairs, the floor; the covers were thrown across the room; the closet door was hanging open, the clothes inside in disarray.

And there was Elsa, curled on the floor.

All thoughts about nightmares flew from her mind. Her instinct was to rush in, throw her arms around Elsa, make sure she was alright, demand to know why she was upset. But there was the ice, there were _icicles _hanging from the ceiling. She saw the way Elsa's shoulders shook, the way she hugged herself. She had seen that once, that night she had confronted her sister in front of the partying guests.

And she knew that if she barged in and did all that her instinct told her to, Elsa would flinch away and close herself off instinctively. Elsa might have opened the gates and her door, but the habit of shutting herself up at the first hint of a possible emotional encounter must be hard to break.

Taking deep breaths, for the sight of her sister in such distress frightened her, she put a hand on the doorframe to steady herself. "Elsa."

Her sister sprang up. Anna was wrong about the perfect hair. It was tied up in a messy blonde bun atop of her head and strands were already falling out of it. There were tear streaks on her cheeks, fear in her eyes. And Anna's heart sank when she saw the bulky gloves she wore. She had never thought the sight of her sister wearing gloves again would affect her so. It was as though the progress they had made ever since The Thaw was all for naught.

Her sister backed into the wall, into the corner of her room, as far away from Anna as possible; her gloved hands were folded into her lap, the fingers laced tightly together, as though Elsa did not know what else she could hold on to, "Anna. What… what are you doing here?"

Slowly, Anna stepped into the room, stopping just inside the door. The temperature was notably lower here, and she had to fight against the urge to rub her arms against the chill. "I had a nightmare." she said simply. She made no move to approach her sister, not yet. She recognized this, the fidgeting, the eyes darting towards the door as though Elsa was thinking of making a break for it. But recognizing it didn't automatically mean knowing how to deal with it.

She never thought she would need to deal with this again - Elsa being frightened, Elsa closing herself off, Elsa keeping secrets- not after The Thaw.

What had scared her sister so badly? What was she trying to hide this time?

Maybe talking about something else was a better approach than bluntly asking Elsa what was wrong. "I had that dream again." Anna began slowly, "Hans… he killed you, before I can get there." The fear wasn't as devastating now, dulled by the fact that Elsa was standing right there, alive and physically well. And the nightmare seemed insignificant now compared to Elsa's distress. "Do you think this nightmare thing is ever going to stop?"

"I… I don't know. I wish it would." Elsa said miserably. She did not make a move toward Anna like Anna hoped she would. It hurt, a little, that even after coming all the way to her room, Elsa would not willingly reach out to her.

"Anna, I… I think I'll go back to bed," Elsa said shakily, straightening up, "I… I need my sleep, there's this really important meeting with the Council tomorrow… So if you don't mind…"

It was an obvious dismissal. _Oh no you don't_, was all Anna could think about, _you're not shutting me out again_. Apparently small talk was not going to work.

"Aren't you going to tell me what's bothering you?" she said, bluntly, not caring that from past experience her sister never reacted favourably to her bluntness.

As predicted, Elsa shrank back again against the wall. "Nothing is bothering me."

"There's frost on the floor." Anna pointed out, crossing her arms.

"It's _nothing_!" It stared snowing, and Anna raised an eyebrow.

"Don't shut me out, Elsa. We're passed that now. I won't let you handle everything alone again." She said quietly. On a whim, as she saw Elsa's eyes dart to the door again, she closed the door and stood in front of it, blocking her sister's escape, and making it clear that she would not be thrown from the room. "There's no way I'm letting you kick me out until you tell me."

"Anna…"

"Don't shut me out, Elsa. I won't let you. Let me help."

"You can't help, Anna. You'll only make it worse." Elsa said desperately. "And it's nothing!"

_Oh not again. _The last time she had seen her sister like this, Elsa was walking away, tears in her eyes, hugging herself, and wearing only one glove because Anna had grabbed the other. Then an impromptu winter had occurred. Here were the same eyes, brimming with tears, the same arms hugging herself, and it seemed that there were more than one pair of gloves; and Anna would not let her walk away again.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me! It's either you tell me _now _or we both stay here until you do!"

"It's _nothing._" the floor grew slippery with ice, "I just had a nightmare! It's nothing! It certainly has nothing to do with you!"

Anna stopped, looking at her, struggling to make sense of the hurt that catapulted into her. Elsa had a nightmare. A bad one, from the looks of things; bad enough that she had shattered her window with her ice, bad enough that her wardrobe was in a mess that resembled the one in Anna's. Bad enough that she was wearing the gloves like a soldier putting on armor. But she didn't look for Anna, didn't come to her room, didn't need her help. It hurt, because when Anna had a nightmare, the first thing she could think of was going to her sister for comfort.

"You know… you do know… that you could have come to my room, right?" she hated how small her voice sounded, hated the uncertainty, the vulnerability.

Elsa's face crumbled. "Oh Anna. Of course I do. I _do _know." She held out a hand toward her, but drew back, and backed a step. And with that step, it was like an invisible line was drawn between them.

"Then why didn't you come?" It hurt, because here was proof, right here, that her fear was correct. Elsa did not need her after all.

_It has nothing to do with you._

"It's different this time, Anna. It's not… _your _kind of dream. This is a different one, one that I need to deal with on my own." Elsa said desperately.

Suddenly, Anna wanted to just turn, open the door and walk away, because she was so tired, always being the one reaching out to her sister, always hoping that, maybe, Elsa needed her as much as she needed Elsa; wishing that, maybe, Elsa missed her as much as she missed Elsa. She would leave, let Elsa feel the rejection for once; let her know what it felt like to be left alone, with no one who cared.

Anna backed a step, too, and the line between them was solidified.

"I can't bear for you to hate me." Elsa whispered.

_Don't you know, Elsa? I had tried so hard to hate you. And I never could. _Not even now, when the hurt was a vulnerable child within her, a child who was viciously slapped."I can never hate you, Elsa."

Elsa looked at her pleadingly, her arms twitching, stretching out toward her. Then she seemed to catch herself, and the arms fell to her sides again. This was familiar, too, as was the longing in her eyes. Wanting a hug, needing it, but too afraid to ask, not knowing how.

"You will, when you find out I'm a murderer."

Elsa clamped her hands to her mouth, staring over them in horror at her outburst. The flurries began to swirl in the rising wind, the curtains were pulled right off their hooks. The covers on the bed lifted into the air. The cold billowed, but Anna made a leap through the sudden snow storm, over that invisible line – _to hell with that invisible line -_ toward her sister. _Not now, not when Elsa was finally opening up. _

"_No_!" Elsa curled into the wall and onto the floor, "No! Stay away from me! _Stay away_!" She twisted out of Anna's grasp. "Please give me a minute…"

_To hell with that, too. _Anna wrapped her arms around her sister, trapping her flailing arms to her sides, and pulled her into a hard hug.

"Explain that to me." she said firmly, held on even firmly when her sister's struggles intensified. "Tell me why you're a murderer when you've never killed anyone before."

"How do you know I've never killed before?" Elsa asked desperately, and in Anna's opinion, stupidly.

"You're Elsa." She said simply, and, because she was kneeling and Elsa was on the floor and it was such a convenient height difference, she bent her head and pressed her lips to her sister's hair.

Just like that, the struggling stopped. The wind stopped howling. Encouraged, Anna pressed another kiss to her sister's head, and ran a hand in soothing circles on her back. "No." Elsa moaned, "Please let me go." But she was burrowing into the embrace, and her arms were coming around Anna, clinging on for dear life. "Please don't do this."

"Don't you like hugs anymore?" Anna asked her shakily.

"It hurts. Hugs hurt."

"Hugs don't hurt."

"They do when you have a taste of it, and then you lose it."

"That's not going to happen, ever. Not from my side." To prove it, Anna squeezed harder. "You're okay, Elsa. I've got you." she murmured, and didn't know why that made Elsa cry even harder. It scared her to see Elsa like this. Her sister, who was the queen, normally poised, stately, and usually so strong. Looking so vulnerable now, so terrified.

"Don't hate me. Please don't hate me."

Anna pressed her cheek to the top of Elsa's head and closed her eyes. "I can never hate you. Elsa, please tell me what's going on."

It came out in between sobs. The ice palace. The protective snowman. The Duke's guards with the crossbows. Elsa trying to fend them off with her powers. Hans' arrival...

Wait, backtrack.

"They did _what_?" Anna pushed her sister away to look at her, the terror and fury swirling, "they tried to kill you? How could – how _dare_ – _they tried to kill you, why didn't you tell me_?" The fury roared, and became a beast wanting to bite and claw, the fear made her want to pull her sister in and shield her from every threat that was no longer there. And over all was the helplessness, the bitter regret at the knowledge that she had not been there when her sister needed her.

"Focus Anna," Elsa said, a little hysterically, "I'm trying to tell you _I _tried to kill _them_! If… if _Hans _had been one second late, I would have killed them both. Think of this," Tears poured as the frost spread, the snowflakes hung suspended in midair, "_Hans _had to stop me from being a murderer, what does that say about me?"

"Elsa. Oh gosh. Elsa." She couldn't get her head around it. She had almost lost her sister. And this was more terrifying than Hans and his sword. With Hans at least she had _been _there; she had stopped him. But Elsa had been alone in the mountains, fending off two men with crossbows and _she had not known. _Crossbows. Arrows, a weapon with a range much further compared to a sword. She had not been there. If Elsa had been slower, if she didn't have her powers… Her hands moved urgently, over Elsa's hair, her face, down her arms, then went around her to pull her back into the hug. Elsa was here, warm, alive, and unhurt.

_Thank God._

"I should have been there," Anna whispered fiercely, forgetting that it was Elsa who had forced her to leave. "I should have been there. I could have helped."

"What? No. Anna…"

"You shouldn't have been alone."

"Oh Anna…" Gently, Elsa touched Anna's face, then jerked her hand away as though the touch scared her. "I'm glad you weren't there. You would have gotten hurt, had you been there." Elsa heaved a shuddering breath, "_I _could have hurt you, again, had you been there. And I would rather die. You were the one thing that kept me going. I don't want to know what I would have done if I had lost you. Nothing else would have mattered anymore."

Here it was. Anna thought. Right here. Just when she was least expecting it. Her sister did love her after all.

"I'm glad you weren't there. I didn't want you to see… to see me… my ice… those men…" Elsa closed her eyes, shoulders hunched as though expecting a blow. Swamped with love, Anna drew her sister in again, clung, and rocked back and forth to comfort them both. "You didn't try to kill anyone, Elsa. It was just a dream. It's over now."

"It wasn't just a dream, Anna." Elsa said softly.

"Listen to me," Anna lowered herself to sit in front of her sister, holding on to the gloved hands, squeezing her sister's fingers until Elsa opened her eyes to look at her. "You did not try to kill anyone." Anna said firmly. "_Trying _denotes actually _wanting _to, Elsa, and if you had wanted to kill those men, if you really are a murderer you think yourself to be, you won't be here, crying your heart out because of the thought that you _could _have done it." Tenderly, she reached out to rub away the tears on her sister's cheeks. "You were scared. You were only trying to protect yourself, and all _Hans _did was to distract you from your fear, that's all. As soon as you came to yourself, you stopped, didn't you?"

"If he hadn't distracted me, I _would _have killed them."

The Anna from before would have denied that. But she knew better now. Denying something wouldn't make it go away. Denying something wouldn't make it less real. "Perhaps." she allowed. "But I wouldn't have thought any less of you if you had."

Elsa looked at her, disbelief and surprise on her face.

"Elsa, if another person in your situation was brought before you, if another woman accidentally killed a man trying to protect herself, and was brought before you, would you have condemned her?" Anna asked seriously.

"I… well… no." Elsa sucked in a deep breath, looking confused.

"No?" Anna prompted.

"I…" they looked at each other for a moment, and in that moment the confused, instinctive answer that had sprung into Elsa's mind solidified into affirmation, and the understanding trembled into her eyes. "No. I wouldn't have." She said quietly.

"There you go."

They both looked down at the gloves. Anna rubbed her fingers over the soft silk, watching in fascination as the frost melted away into nothing. The temperature was rising, and around them, the snow and ice simply dissolved, vanishing into thin air.

"Your ice penetrates stone walls." Anna murmured, "I find it hard to believe that mere gloves would keep it contained."

"They don't." Elsa admitted, "I guess it's a habit. I have been wearing them for so long, I still subconsciously associate wearing them with suppression of my powers. Anna." She said, shakily, as Anna began slowly pulling the gloves off, "Anna. My powers. They are not always beautiful. They are dangerous. And if I lose control…"

"I know they can be dangerous, Elsa." Anna said gently, "I _know_. That's why I'm here, to help you _not _lose control. Love thaws, remember? And you love me best." She smiled winningly, and her heart soared when Elsa smiled back, when Elsa did not deny it, when the shining in her eyes stated that _yes, I do love you best_.

Anna pulled the gloves all the way off, and laced their fingers together. "See? No ice."

"Anna. Thank you." Elsa squeezed her fingers.

"I love you." Somehow she knew that Elsa needed these words just as much. "Now, let's get back to the real matter at hand." Anna looked at her sister reproachfully, and jabbed a finger for emphasis. "I can't believe you didn't tell me those men tried to kill you!"

"Anna." Elsa looked confused by the rapid change of topic.

"At least I got to punch _Hans_. You let those men go without any form of _punishment_!"

"I'm sure cutting off trade with them is punishment enough…"

Anna waved that aside like a fly. "You should have told me so that I could have punched _them_!" she seethed, "Or kicked, or slapped, or _something_, I don't care what. They tried to kill you! They should feel some _pain_! Maybe a good kick where it hurts _most_, I've heard that men are really vulnerable there, right between the legs. Yup, they deserve a good kick in the go…"

"Anna!" Elsa exclaimed, appropriately horrified. "Whoever taught you something like that?"

Anna closed her mouth, remembered she was a princess just a tad too late, and tried an innocent look. "Taught me what?"

Elsa's eyes narrowed - and it was the best expression Anna had seen on her sister's face all night. "That was something completely inappropriate for a princess to say. Maybe I should have a word with your tutors…"

"Oh, well well, will you look at the time!" Anna exclaimed, jumping up, pulling Elsa up with her. "We should really go to bed! C'mon, Elsa, you won't want to fall asleep in the middle of your very important meeting tomorrow."

Elsa's eyes were still narrowed in suspicion. "Or maybe it's _Kristoff _I should have a word with; apparently letting the two of you go on midnight walks is not such a good idea." she raised an eyebrow as Anna turned, spluttering, to her, "Did you think I know nothing about your night escapades?"

The innocent look was obviously not working, but it was her best defense at the moment. "Night escapades? I have _no _idea what you are talking about."

"I am Queen. I am your sister," Elsa tapped Anna on the nose, "I know _all_."

The innocent look crumbled. "Kristoff hasn't… I never… we won't… it was all just… we didn't _do _anything!" Anna wailed.

"So the kissing was nothing?" Elsa raised the other eyebrow.

"Kiss…" Anna was sure she would spontaneously combust anytime soon, she could _feel _herself changing colours, from pink to red to crimson, "Who told you we kissed? I mean, there are a lot of _other _things to do during midnight walks, like climbing the roofs, visiting Sven at the stables, or talking, yeah talking's great. It's not that I don't like the kissing, 'cause I love those, I just…" Anna swallowed, "I mean, who told you we kissed?"

"You just did." Said Elsa, and a smile bloomed on her face. Chuckling, she put her arms around Anna and squeezed. "Oh Anna, precious Anna. I love you so, so much."

Anna stood still, savoring the hug, and the words; words she had waited a lifetime to hear.

"Well, I don't like you very much right now." she said, shakily, and threw in a pout for added measure, and was rewarded when Elsa laughed, a clear, lilting sound that brought a smile to her face.

"Dear Anna, my sister who doesn't like me very much right now…" Elsa's voice turned hesitant, and she smiled shyly. "Can I sleep in your room tonight?"

Love, fresh, clear, and warm, flooded over her. Fighting down the urge to scream _oh yes! _and jump around in glee, Anna settled for, "I kick people in my sleep." and was already pulling Elsa out of the room, down the corridor leading to her room.

"No one knows that better than I do." Elsa said with feeling. "The distance between our rooms can be such a nuisance sometimes, really. What do you say to our moving back to the same room?" she said as they rounded the corner to Anna's room.

And Anna's cup of happiness was full.

* * *

The next day, while Elsa was in her meeting with the Council, a traumatized Kristoff sought out the company of the princess.

"I came back earlier than expected last night… why was it that _Elsa _was the one who came to the window when I knocked on it? She said -and I quote - _Anna's sleeping, Kristoff, but I can accompany you on your midnight walk if you like_." Kristoff held on to Anna's shoulders a little hysterically. "She _knew_! Frozen lakes! The Queen knows I have been seeing her younger sister! She knows _we've been on midnight walks together_!"

"Elsa's fine with it, really. She likes you. _Really._" Anna patted him sympathetically on the arm; and told herself that, _yup_, she and Elsa moving back into the same room wasn't _that_ good an idea.

Two days later, the sisters had their rooms side by side, with a connecting door that was, by mutual agreement, never locked. It was an arrangement that benefited all parties involved.


End file.
